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Wednesday, 1 November 2023

Wild Flowers

In the roof space of silence

And echoed evensong

A place on this morning

Untouched yet reached for


Held up by stone pillars

As for worshipful gatherings

My prayer, my poem

Of a few simple words


Wide lake of sidelights

And shadows grace is falling

Just by being still with you

Together to gather


Sitting on the slat wood

Sitting in the pew

Unset offset imagination

Inactive, attractive so so soon


Do you propagate wild flowers

Poppies, evening primroses

Which close then open

At the same time of sunset


Open through the night

Splashing their perfume

The old peculiars

Of tobacco, and Old Spice


Dominoes, counting games

Maybe one day she might

Except once, when more unable

Tables turned and you edged away


Out uneasily from beneath

Or beyond the stairway of silence

Swift in flight did you not see

The forbearance of the night



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